


Wrath of the Empire

by atrilial



Series: Outlander Zalith Universe [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slavery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 05:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrilial/pseuds/atrilial
Summary: Zalith Drurteg has been in a unique position in the Sith Empire her entire life. As a Zabrak, an alien, whose family has achieved a position of power in the Empire due to their strength as Sith, Zalith's family both commands respect and faces prejudice on a daily basis. She's been forged into a woman of both pride and resilience, with a desire to see the Empire grow and change into something greater. But first, she must join the ranks of the Sith, like her parents and grandparents before her.Rating will eventually go up. Someday. Probably...Also, warnings will likely be added as the story progresses.





	Wrath of the Empire

Zalith rolled her neck, revelling in the satisfying pops as she watched the great green orb of her homeworld grow larger in the transparisteel shuttle window. Across the surface of Dromund Kaas, clusters of lightning crackled and glowed in the atmosphere, a magnificent interplay of color and light. There was a certain peacefulness to be found on long hyperspace flights, but after almost a month in space, it was a relief to see home rapidly taking over the viewport.

She thrummed with energy, squeezing the datapad in her hand in excitement. Over a decade of planning was finally coming to fruition. She looked down at the pad again, reassuring herself for the hundredth time. She ran her thumb over the signatures of heads of every clan of Iridonia. Her father’s homeworld would finally be joining the Empire. The only thing that could make this victory sweeter would be if he were still alive to see it. Still, she liked to think maybe some part of him still existed in the Force; maybe in some sense, he knew. He was a powerful Sith after all.

Zalith laughed at herself and looked out the window again. Childish fantasies. Her father was not the type to lurk around as a Force ghost for centuries, haunting ancient tombs. No, it was probably better to think he was free, no longer clinging to this life.

Regardless, Zalith knew her mother would appreciate the news. Vadroa had been working towards this goal most of her life, even before Zalith’s father died. It was a sweet and hard won victory.

The shuttle arrived at the spaceport, and Zalith disembarked, taking the familiar path to the departures for Serrona Overlook. She ignored the dirty looks of the customs agent, and blinked as the scanner light of the identification verification droid swept over her face and armor. The light turned green and the droid intoned, “Identification verified.” The customs agent looked slightly disappointed, but she brushed past him. The departures board indicated a shuttle would be leaving for her hometown in five minutes. Zalith picked up the pace, sending meek servants and dutiful droids scurrying out of her path. She made it to the hanger just as a droid announced the final call for passengers.

Her boots clanged on the ramp as she rushed to board the small intra-planet shuttle. Most of the seats were taken as Sith and Imperials made their commute home from Kaas city. In the back, a number of slaves and servants squeezed together, holding onto the tethers for balance. Many of them clutched parcels and packages, no doubt running errands for their masters.

Zalith turned towards the front of the shuttle and took a seat beside a woman in uniform who was idly sketching a rather striking Sith Pureblood sitting a few rows ahead. Despite clearly being hastily done - a diversion to pass the commute - the sketch really captured the power radiating from the severe crimson-skinned man.

Zalith leaned toward the woman to get a better look and commented softly, “That sketch is quite compelling.”

The woman looked up in wide eyed surprise. “Oh! Um...th...thank you, sir,” she stuttered, then hastily added, “Milord.”

Zalith just smiled, hoping she looked reassuring. The woman’s nervousness did not ease. Zalith pressed on. Perhaps continued conversation would release the tension.

“The way you’ve drawn him, he reminds me of Lord Furith,” Zalith said, gesturing to the drawing. The woman’s brow furrowed, and Zalith could nearly see the woman’s mind working through her knowledge, struggling for recognition. Zalith clarified, “Lord Furith is the protagonist of _My Lord Conqueror_.”

The frown lines of the woman’s brow eased with understanding, and she nodded. Oh, I see. Forgive me, my lord. I don’t have much time to attend the opera,” she confessed, looking mildly chagrined.

Zalith waved it off. “That is a shame,” she said, glancing out the window where tumultuous purple clouds rolled by. “Some of the Empire’s most inspiring stories have been immortalized in opera. Should you ever get the chance to attend, I think you would greatly appreciate it.”

“As you say, my lord,” the woman nodded. “I am sure they are quite wonderful. My commanding officer often speaks of the latest performances.”

They continued to talk about the woman’s work for a few more minutes before the conversation dwindled. The woman returned to her sketch, shoulders tense and shooting sideways glances at Zalith. Eventually, the woman relaxed into her task and Zalith settled back to watch her work and pass most of the rest of the trip in silence.

It took a little over a hour to reach the small transportation hub that served the exclusive community where the Drurteg Estate, Zalith’s home, had stood now for several decades. Before they disembarked, Zalith asked to purchase the woman’s finished sketch. Fumbling in her surprise, the woman passed over the work and watched in a daze as Zalith transferred the credits. With a jerky nod, the woman expressed her gratitude, and they parted ways. Zalith took the drawing to the luggage terminal and handed it to the attendant, instructing him to have the drawing and her bag delivered to the estate.

Stepping out of the controlled atmosphere of the hub was always a little surprising. Heat washed over her, humidity thick in the air. It was such a changed from the dry climate of Iridonia. Zalith inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth move through her, tinted with the light, honeyed aroma of blossoms. Here the jungle plant life had been groomed and cultivated into exquisite perfection, but beyond the speeders and hustling travellers, Zalith could see the edge of the lurking jungle: wild, overgrown, untameable.

Zalith made her way to the speeder rentals, along with a few others. Most of the shuttle passengers stepped into chauffeured speeders or picked up their high-end vehicle from the valet. The slaves and servants shuffled onto a shuttle bus that would circle through the community and drop them near their masters’ estates.

Normally, Zalith would also have a chauffeur awaiting her, but she hadn’t called ahead this time, lest it ruin the surprised. So instead, she waited in line and rented a speeder to take her home. There was a certain thrill to riding on the exposed bikes that groaned and whirred but sped through the cleared jungle paths with surprising alacrity. It took only about twenty minutes to zip from the hub to the open hills of the overlook, sprawling with imposing mansions, many of which hing over the dramatic cliff face, massive windows exposed to highlight the angry, roiling ocean kilometers below.

Zalith could taste the salt on her tongue and smiled at the familiar sensation. The acidic oceans of Iridonia, while fascinating, were far less pleasant. Thunder rolled in the distance, massive storm clouds forming over the ocean that would break over the jungle within the hour, by the look of it.

The sharp edges of the dark and imposing homes favored by many of the Sith cut across the line of clouds on the horizon, their massive gates obscuring Zalith’s view as she passed by them. Zalith smiled as the gates of her home came into view, sandy arched stone providing a stark contrast to the verdant landscape and shades of gray on display in the sky and the neighbors’ estates.

Quickly inputting the code, the gates swung open on well-greased gears. Zalith drove up to the front of the house and disembarked, pushing the _return_ button on the speeder. Autopilot kicked in and it sped off to return to the transport hub. Zalith faced the house, taking in the familiar sight. She’d spent many nights on those flat rooftops, watching the storms roll in across the endless expanse of the ocean.

The ornate gold trim was her grandmother’s design, back when the house was first built. As alien as her family, the house was considered an eyesore to most of the neighbors. Zalith’s grandmother still cackled about it to this day. As one of the first Zabrak - first aliens - to be allowed into the Sith Academy, her grandmother had also taken a certain delight in aggravating those who resented her success. Vadroa took after her mother in that, now that the estate had been passed on to her.

As Zalith made her way between the stark columns of the entryway, she considered it might be time to pay her grandparents a visit. They had “retired” to Ziost, to better keep an eye on their various projects in logistics there. It had been many years since Zalith had had the time to visit Ziost. Perhaps now that this project was concluded, she and her mother could go together to share the news. That would certainly be an...interesting trip.

The entryway was quiet save for the echo of Zalith’s footsteps against the polished stone floors. Assuming her mother was entertaining diplomats in the guest wing, Zalith made her way up the stairs, deciding she may as well clean up first. And change into something more breathable.

As she strode down the hall, a servant stepped out of one of the empty rooms and stopped himself just short of colliding with her.

“Oh! My lady, I wasn’t aware you’d returned,” Werlin said, hastily bowing. Even standing straight, Zalith could look over the top of his head. He continued, head still slightly bowed, “Shall I prepare the bath for you? Or a meal perhaps?”

“A bath sounds lovely, but no, thank you,” Zalith said regretfully. “I shouldn’t tarry too long, so I’ll have to resign myself to a shower. If you could bring a light meal to my room however, that would be much appreciated.”

Werlin bowed once more and scurried off to do as requested. Vadroa had always been faintly amused by Zalith’s observance of manners with the help. But it was one of the few things Zalith remembered clearly about her father. He treated everyone with dignity and respect. Zalith always made it a goal to emulate that when she could.

As Zalith stepped into her rooms and felt the door shut behind her, she could feel the tension ease from her shoulders. She walked through the study turned training and meditation room and entered the refresher. Shooting a longing glance at the large, mosaic bathing pool, Zalith sighed and turned to the shower instead. As the water warmed up, she unclasped her armor and boots with practiced hands and set them aside to be cleaned and polished. Then she peeled herself out of her undersuit and dropped the clothes into the laundry chute. As the last moment, she remembered to set her horn ornaments on the countertop, then she stepped in the steaming stream of water.

Humming, she let the water rinse away the lingering effects of her trip. She washed her shoulder length hair, running her fingers through the onyx strands with a pleased sigh. It felt like ages since she’d been truly clean. In truth, she’d showered on the shuttle yesterday, but somehow sonic showers never seemed as effective, despite advertisements to the contrary.

Zalith stepped out of the shower, drying off and wrapping herself in a robe. She’d been fast enough that the mirror remained mostly fog-free, and Zalith examined herself in the reflection. Her hand itched to trace over the new scar cutting over her right eye from her forehead to her cheek. More than once, she’d had to stop herself from picking at it as it healed. It wasn’t her only scar by any means, but it was certainly the most prominent. At least her facial tattooing seemed more or less intact, though perhaps a touch-up wouldn’t hurt once the scar was solidly healed.

It was her own fault. She’d underestimated her opponent, assuming his lack of Force abilities meant it would be an easy victory. Iridonia’s Greatest Champion had clearly earned the title, however. What he lacked in the Force, he made up for in cunning and experience. She’d nearly lost her head to his vibroblade, only pulling back just enough at the last minute and earning a cut instead of a decapitation. Once she’d realized the man was more capable than she’d given him credit for, she’d been more cautious and was able to turn the tide to her favor.

The champion had been the final impediment to the Iridonians joining the Empire. With his defeat, the last resistance broke and the clans were eager to sign. Just as Vadroa had predicted. It would please her to learn she was right.

With that thought, Zalith left the refresher and walked into her dressing room and began skimming through her wardrobe, looking for something appropriate to wear to deliver the news. After a moment, she settled on a simple black, off-the-shoulders top that, combined with a crimson skirt that slit most of the way up her thigh, would nicely show off the intricate tattooing over her shoulders and legs. She’d added a few new tattoos courtesy of one of the master artists on Iridonia to symbolize her victory. She wondered if her mother would like them.

Clasping a gold band around her waist and finishing the look with gold jewelry on her horns, ears, neck and wrists, Zalith examined her reflection in the mirror once more. Satisfied with the result, she slipped on a pair of dress slippers and set out to find her mother. Just before she left the room, she recalled asking Werlin for food.

Turning, she scanned her eyes across the rich cushions and tapestries, the holodisk towers glowing softly, until she came to the desk where a tray with an assortment of bread, cheese and fruit was carefully arrayed. She retreated back into the room and contemplated eating as she walked. Her stomach growling made her think better of it, so she sat in her armchair, smoothing soft cheese over still warm bread.

Biting into the prepared slice, she hummed with pleasure at the smooth, rich taste. How had she missed the aroma of fresh bread when she stepped out of the dressing room? She took her time eating, despite her eagerness to speak with her mother. She savored each bite, so glad not to be eating the bland meal basics provided on many transport shuttles.

Satisfied, Zalith took one last glance around the room to ensure she wasn’t forgetting anything else. With a nod, she exited, closing the door behind her and heading down the hall. Werlin met her part way, stepping aside to let her pass. She stopped however and faced him.

“Do you know where I can find my mother currently?” She asked him.

Werlin nodded, brow creasing as he explained, “Yes, my lady. The last I saw, Darth Dredalis,” he paused, apparently recalling he wasn’t addressing a guest, “I mean, your mother was stepping into her study. That was some time ago.”

He seemed concerned, though Zalith couldn’t understand why. Her mother often worked in her study for long hours. Perhaps she had been unusually tense? If that were the case, then all the better for Zalith to deliver her news sooner rather than later.

“Thank you, Werlin. That will be all,” Zalith dismissed him and continued down the hall, pace quickening.

It took a few minutes to reach her mother’s study. It was on the other side of the house, near the guest wing, to facilitate conducting business with visiting diplomats and sycophants. As she strode through a hall lined with great, arched windows, she noticed that the storm had landed. Rain began to plink softly against the glass and the hall flashed in a stark contrast of dark and light as lightning slashed across the sky, followed almost immediately by a rumbling thunder that vibrate the stone slabs beneath Zalith’s feet.

Zalith was sorely tempted to stop and watch the vibrant display of power, but recalling Werlin’s creased brow, thought it better to focus on the task of delivering her news to her mother. The rain pattering against the glass grew in volume and frequency, easily drowning out the swish of Zalith’s skirt and the quick slap of her soft shoes against the glistening floor. By the time Zalith reached the door of her mother’s study, the storm was in full form, whipping angrily against the sturdy transparisteel and bending the topiaries in the courtyard outside nearly sideways.

Opening the door, Zalith paused for a moment, confused. Had she opened the wrong door? She appeared to have walked straight into the storm, lightning rolling aggressively, chasing shadows and sending a sharp smell of charcoal twisting through the room. Because it was indeed a room, on closer inspection. Her mother’s study, in fact.

At the center of the storm, Vadroa floated slightly off the ground, lighting shooting aimlessly from her fingertips.

And then there was her face.

Eyes glowed a malevolent red. Mouth twisted, caught halfway between a grimace and a cackle. Vadroa was the Dark Side embodied. She was terrifying.

It took Zalith a moment to find her nerve. She couldn’t recall her mother being this angry since the death of Uaxur, Zalith’s father. What in the galaxy had happened?

A sick dread twisted inside her. She stepped cautiously into the room, keeping a barrier up, lest she be struck down by an errant bolt. She was half surprised not to find a body smoking in the corner. Vadroa was not generally inclined to take out her fury on the slaves - too time consuming to train a decent replacement - but most Sith had no such compunctions. And Vadroa seemed nearly blind in her rage.

 _“I will_ destroy _him,_ ” a distorted voice poured from her mother’s blood red lips, reverberating around the room with latent power. Zalith took a gamble and raised her voice over the cacophony of noise.

“Who, mother? Who will we destroy?” Zalith asked. Hopefully by casting herself as an ally, her mother wouldn’t instinctively attempted to strike Zalith down before coming to her senses.

Vadroa’s head whipped around, red eyes fixating on Zalith’s blue as the lightning crackled with increasing intensity. For a moment, Zalith feared her mother wouldn’t recognize her in her fury. But after a moment, Vadroa blinked, red giving way to gold. The lightning calmed, slowly reduced to a quiet hissing glow in Vadroa’s hands. Vadroa dropped gracefully to her feet and stared at Zalith, deep furrows forming under the jewelry hanging from Vadroa’s horns. She inhaled deeply, and her mask of control slipped into place. Calm, collected, as thought that other creature had never existed, she addressed her daughter with a rich, smooth voice, tinged with surprise.

“You’re home? I wasn’t informed you were arriving today,” Vadroa said. Her eyes narrowed, looking out the door behind Zalith. With an inclination of her head, she gestured for Zalith to close the door and give them some privacy. Once the door clicked shut, Vadroa’s eyes scanned over her daughter.

Resisting the urge to shift under her gaze, Zalith studied her mother in tur. A light sheen of sweat glistened on Vadroa’s crimson skin, so unlike Zalith’s tan complexion. Indeed, Vadroa could have passed for a Sith Pureblood were it not for the horns on her forehead. It was unusual for Vadroa to work up a sweat, usually preferring more subtle displays of power.

But even if Zalith had not walked in on her mother’s furious storm, she would have known something was off by her hair. Vadroa was so meticulous with her long, ebony locks, usually having the servants spend an hour or more pulling it into an elaborate updo. Now, loose strands of her hair tumbled from their confines, and not in the intentional way Vadroa often did to lend some softness, some “imperfection” to her features. No, this was wild, to the point where a sort of strange halo formed around her head as hair stood on end in the electricity still heavy in the room and on her skin.

“You have a souvenir, I see,” Vadroa’s voice cut into Zalith’s thoughts and drew her attention back to her mother’s face. It took Zalith a moment to catch up with her mother’s meaning. Oh, the scar. Of course.

“It was better than the alternative,” Zalith responded mildly. Normally that might being a chuckle or at least a smile from her mother. Instead, Vadroa’s lips pursed.

“You have it then? The signatures?” Vadroa asked, clearly already knowing the answer. There was none of the excitement Zalith anticipated. Instead, Vadroa’s voice was flat. Zalith’s insides twisted in an uncomfortable mix of disappointment and bitterness, but she shoved it down, focusing on the more pressing issue.

“Yes, she answered unnecessarily, then decided to pursue her earlier line of questioning. “What happened, mother?”

“ _Ravage_.” Vadroa snarled, face twisting into a spectre of its earlier form, eyes flaring red for a moment. Zalith was alarmed to hear her mother speak of a Dark Council member, and Vadroa’s own master, with such disdain and disrespect. It certainly wasn’t the first clash between them, but Vadroa had never been so agitated by it before. She usually took her master’s schemes and setbacks in stride.

There were very few things that could affect Vadroa so intensely. Zalith felt a cold clenching around her twin hearts as she suspected the truth. Her mouth ran dry and it took her a moment to find her voice.

“The treaty?” Zalith asked quietly. Vadroa turned abruptly away, walking to her desk and leaning over it, her manicured nails scouring the polished wood. A numbness washed over Zalith before she even heard the words.

“Yes,” Vadroa’s voice came out clipped and icy, “whether he was threatened by my success or just loath to see more aliens accepted into the Empire, my _master_ ,” she spit out the word like a poison, “has sabotaged decades of work. The Empire attacked key Iridonian settlements for ‘resources’. In retaliation, the Iridonians turn to the Republic for aid and support. The planet is lost to us.”

Iridonia. Lost. The homeland of her father and her mother’s father. Where even now, Zalith still had grandparents, cousins, family. Now allies of the Republic. Decades of work wasted. Because of one man.

Darth Ravage.

A member of the Dark Council - one of the leaders of the Empire - had pushed a valuable resource, a potential ally, into the hands of the enemy. And for what? Spite? Prejudice?

As Zalith ran this through her mind, her fists clenched, the numbness melting and giving way to rage. But unlike Vadroa’s outburst, Zalith kept her rage close, banking it like a flame to be tended until the optimal moment. In her mind’s eye, she pictured carving Ravage’s name into the banking. It sat beside an older flame, with the name of her father’s murderer etched beneath.

Vadroa spoke into the silence that had fallen between them, her voice sounding worn. “It’s time for you to go to the Sith Academy on Korriban. I have delayed you long enough. People are talking, and it will become a problem before much longer,” Vadroa explained, back tense. Sighing, she turned to face Zalith. “Besides, you are as prepared as you can be. More by far than any of your peers were. I have no concern of you meeting Dalgeth Zur’s fate,” she said, eyes roving over the damage to the room.

Zalith’s chest tightened at the memory of her ill-fated first love. One year her senior, he had been sent to Korriban nearly a decade ago. And, as with many acolytes, he never left. Zalith had never heard whether his death was confirmed, but attempted escape amounted to the same thing.

“Of course, mother,” Zalith said, inclining her head in a slight bow. “When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow,” Vadroa answered, going back to her desk and grabbing her datapad. Zalith inhaled sharply, fighting the sudden homesickness that clawed at her throat. How ridiculous. She hadn’t even left yet. And at least she wouldn’t have to repack. Vadroa walked back over to Zalith and handed her the pad. “You recall Overseer Tremel? He tutored you on various topics in your adolescence?” Vadroa asked.

Zalith nodded, “I recall.”

She’d never known quite what to make of Tremel. He was as prejudiced as they come, but had somehow decided her family were the exception. Perhaps it was their wealth or history. Or maybe he didn’t see them as a threat because they had never mixed blood with a Sith Pureblood or an Imperial (though through no choice of their own). Regardless, he was a strange one. He had a daughter a few years younger than Zalith and had sort of taken a fatherly attitude when he trained her, but Zalith could never shake the sense that he saw her as a charity case.

Looking over the pad in her hand, Zalith realized it was a series of correspondence between her mother and Tremel. A moment later, Vadroa confirmed it.

“I have been speaking with the Overseer, and he has agreed to take you on personally,” Vadroa explained. “He wishes to accelerate your advancement through the program, and as you are already far more experienced than any of your fellow acolytes will be, I think the advancement will be ideal. There is no sense having you relearn the basics when you have far surpassed them,” Vadroa said proudly.

Zalith stood a little taller, pleased at the compliment, even if it was partially her mother bragging about her own planning and foresight.

“Tremel,” Vadroa continued, “will place you in the notice of Darth Baras, who rumor says is seeking a new apprentice.”

Zalith nodded in understanding, hearts speeding up. Darth Baras was a name she was familiar with. He had crafted the Treaty of Coruscant, forcing the Republic to sign it by working in conjunction with Darth Angral to sack the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The Sith then used that position to force the Republic’s hand.

Darth Baras was known for being cunning and manipulative. No one knew how vast his network of informants reached. She could learn a great deal from him, but she would have to play her cards carefully, lest he outplay and destroy her. Confrontation between master and apprentice was inevitable and she was determined to come out on top. Until then, however, she would have to study his methods closely. Of course, she first had to secure the position as his apprentice.


End file.
